


The Crooked Kind

by Moirei (Moirai_Fates)



Series: Moral Spectrum Trilogy [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman Begins (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But she loves him anyway, Canon-Typical Violence, Crane is a Little Shit, F/M, Gen, Manipulation So Much Manipulation, Organized Crime, Original Character-centric, Study in Morals and Human Nature, Timeline What Timeline, league of shadows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3507203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moirai_Fates/pseuds/Moirei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some get dealt simple hands. Some walk the common paths, all nice and worn. But all folks are damaged goods." - Gotham is an unfamiliar city, full of glittering lights to disguise the darkness of corruption. In this place of beginnings, Elli Swan attempts to escape the shadows of her past and, in the process, becomes a catalyst for the Scarecrow and his Fear Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I: Prologue Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Upon watching the Dark Knight Trilogy for the first time I was struck with a tiny idea. Over time it began to gain a life of its own, expanding and growing until I couldn't resist. This is the first installment of The Moral Spectrum Trilogy. The meaning behind this title is that these stories will explore three different levels of morality–the white 'good' end, the grey middle, and the black, 'evil' end–through different characters (original and canon) and their actions. It will be a bit of a study of human nature and morality, using Gotham as the backdrop since it is the perfect place to explore all characters and conflict.
> 
> The story starts with Pre-Batman Begins and will cover through the movie and a little of the aftermath. This also will also be a bit of an AU, because of the addition of my original characters, my original plots, and also because I'm adjusting some of the timeline in the movies to fit certain plot lines better. For example, this prologue is set about a year before Bruce returns to Gotham. Since it was never specified I decided Bruce trained with the League for a year or so. Another change I would like to point out to avoid confusion is that I will be including characters in the story earlier than when they appeared in the movies. The biggest example of this is John Blake. He will have a role later in this story, as well as a bigger role in the sequel that covers The Dark Knight.
> 
> Readers, I hope you enjoy the story that follows. Please read and review; I would love to hear from you

**Disclaimer:** The Dark Knight Trilogy and all of the characters therein do not belong to me. Any original characters or content does.

**Act I  
The Swan and the Crane**

**I**  
**Prologue - Part I  
** **Consign to Shadow**

 _Shadow is ever besieged, for that is its nature. Whilst darkness devours, and light steals. And so no one sees shadow ever retreat to hidden places, only to return in the wake of the war between darkness and light.  
_ –Steve Erikson

* * *

Anger is a powerful emotion, no matter what source creates it, whether it be the grief of a ghost or the hatred of an enemy.

Anger is a consuming emotion. It grows and envelops. It burns, though in different ways. Sometimes it's the slow burn, the warm embers that pulse and heat as a constant presence inside. Other times it's the almighty burn, the quick ignition through your veins, the roar in your ears, the rush deep in your bones, the blinding of your mind, and the searing of your soul.

Bruce Wayne felt that sudden, colossal rush of familiar, fiery anger when his mentor, Henri Ducard, accused Bruce's father for the deaths that took both Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne from their young son.

Bruce stared at Ducard. He was the ninja who'd said he would teach Bruce how to become truly invisible. He was the warrior who'd said he would teach him how to engage six hundred men. He was the mentor who'd said he would teach him how to confront the guilt of his parent's death. Apparently, the same man also placed the blame –blame that had weighed heavily on Bruce for years before being swallowed by anger– onto the father Bruce had loved, lost, and missed so dearly.

The accusation stunned Bruce for a moment, his focus on the training slipping and allowing Ducard the opportunity yank the sword from Bruce's grip and send it skittering a few feet across the ice of their training cove.

Anger sparked and quickly augmented, spreading throughout his body and replacing the sting of the claim. The hot emotion filled him with strength and action. He began to _burn_.

Even without the sword, Bruce pressed forward and continued the fight with his armored body as his weapon.

Ducard, the master truly in his craft, easily defended himself. With a few masterful blows, he fought back Bruce, sending the younger man to slide across the ice on his back.

That anger still burned. It still ran hot. It still kept him fighting. Soon, he was up again, rushing forward into another exchange of punches and blows.

And again, Ducard defended with ease and precision. While Bruce grunted with the exertion, Ducard remained silent as he deflected a punch and grabbed onto Bruce's wrist. With the grip, Ducard flipped the younger man, landing Bruce's back onto the ice again.

He spoke once more, stating that Bruce's anger couldn't have changed the outcome of that terrible night nor the fact that Thomas Wayne had failed to act.

Acting as a loyal son, Bruce pointed out the cause of the tragedy, the person Bruce hated dearly, the criminal he had intended to murder–Joe Chill–had a gun. Thomas had been defenseless against the man behind the trigger and the piercing bullet.

Ducard simply discarded what Bruce said. He replied that Bruce would have acted despite those circumstances.

As he scrambled to a stand, soles scuffing against the ice and eyes glaring at Ducard, Bruce tried to make Ducard understand that, unlike him, his father had no training.

The mentor lunged forward. He rebutted with an exclamation that the training was nothing and with a quick slice of his sword, aimed to cut through Bruce's head.

_Will is everything._

As the sword swung down, Bruce Wayne raised his arms to deflect the blow. The steel sung a sharp note when it collided with the armor of the gauntlets, the last line of protection and defense Bruce had while his own sword laid on the ice a few feet away.

Although Bruce managed to deflect the sword and land an offensive punch on Ducard, the older man returned it with another blow that sent Bruce sprawling on the ice once more.

Quickly, Bruce moved to rise again. He regarded Ducard as the man just paced across the ice, expression calm and eyes hard. Bruce's body remained tensed, waiting for Ducard to come charging at him again. But the man's sword stayed at his side.

He simply spoke.

_The will to act._

For a second, Bruce paused, considering his words. Inflaming wrath leapt to life as he surged forward. With an elegant turn, Ducard's sword swung through the air. Bruce ducked under the blade, the sharp edge narrowly missing his head.

Tucking into a roll, Bruce shifted his body onto his knees and slid backwards across the ice. His hand stretched out behind him, not to brace himself, but to retrieve his own blade. His fingers tightened quickly around the grip while his eyes watched his opponent.

Ducard moved forward, following Bruce's movement. The younger man slipped onto his back, arms raising to bring his sword up to receive Ducard's sure to be deadly stroke.

Steel collided against steel in a harsh sound. Bruce's leg swung up, striking Ducard. A grunt of exertion came from the student and a grunt of pain came from the master. Bruce twisted his body, bringing his other leg to hit Ducard's body and push his own upwards.

For once, Ducard fell to the ice. Bruce stood above and sure on his feet, sword held threateningly over the man. The anger was accompanied by another rush. This time the feeling of accomplishment and pride in one's self warmed through his aching body and hurting soul. A slight smile on his lips, the student called for Ducard's yield–for Bruce's victory.

The master spoke, but it was not the words Bruce wished to hear.

_You haven't beaten me._

Confusion quickly clouded any euphoria or any rage. Ducard lectured his student that in order to obtain his 'victory,' he had sacrificed his sure footing. Hearing his words, Bruce glanced down at the ice supporting him from beneath. A low rumble sounded around him and Bruce remembered another lesson.

_Always mind your surroundings._

With a simple tab of Ducard's sword, the ice shattered.

Bruce fell.

All anger, fire, and heat was lost in the icy grip of the water.

He sunk like a stone, quickly falling into the dark and cold depths.

For the first time, he was consumed by silence, darkness, and cold.

For he first time, he froze.

* * *

Slowly, his conscience stirred.

The overwhelming blackness of his mind began to fade away as more and more of his senses began to return to him.

Sound returned, filling his ears with a sharp crackle, a low hum, and a quick beat.

Smell returned, filling his nose with the familiar scent of the thin mountain air spotted with the new scent of oil.

Taste returned, filling his mouth with the bitterness of bile.

Sense returned, filling his body with the feel of warmth and clothing on shivering skin.

Sight evaded him.

As his vision still resided in darkness, his body became more aware. His entire being trembled as ice continued to settled within his bones. A soft warmth seemed to try to soothe away the cold, but its work was slow.

With a flutter, Bruce's eyes blinked open. Bright light first quickly blinded him. With a small grunt, he blinked rapidly to clear the brightness. As it faded, blurry vision greeted him for a moment before focus began settled in to leave Bruce staring at a concrete ceiling instead of open sky he would have expected.

Bruce looked down towards his chest first, seeing that his body was tightly wrapped in a bundle of blankets and a heating pad. Turning his head, he then observed his surroundings, trying to figure out where exactly he was.

The couch he laid across was soft beneath his back and was surrounded by an assortment of small heaters, humming and burning to try to alleviate the frost infecting his veins. Closest to his head, a computer turned heart monitor stood propped up on a slender, moveable stand. The blue screen displayed medical information like his pulse-rate and blood pressure. It beeped quietly in tune to him. A wire attached to his chest beneath the blankets and clothes and a band wrapped tightly around his upper-arm connected him to the computer. His still slow mind seemed to register the fact that the heartbeat was faster than normal.

Beyond the circle of heaters, a make-shift fireplace was carved into a well. The hearth roared with a bright crackling fire, trying to add some heat for his cold body. All he saw brought out a curiosity from his confusion.

Where was he?

Slowly, Bruce began to sit up, working his arms free from the cocoon of blankets. He glanced over the back of the couch and was surprised by what the rest of the room looked like.

Cast in either bright light or in shadow, the room appeared to be an odd cross of a mechanic's workshop and a computer lab. Metal tables cluttered with equipment, tools, scraps of metal, circuit boards, and various other items, stood around the room in odd clumps that seemed random to Bruce. Shelves lined one dark concrete wall, each set of shelves containing something different. One was stuffed with well-worn books; another housed pulled apart computers and brightly colored wires. A different one was filled with medical supplies and bottled medicine. Next to where a half-made engine sat raised in a corner, a rack attached to the wall held the standard tools of a machine shop, although many of the designated places where missing its piece. Four computer screens glowed dimly from a desk placed in another corner. Though he couldn't discern what half of the screens contained, he thankfully recognized the home pages of Google and Youtube.

Rather quickly, Bruce noticed the lack of windows within the room. The little light in the room came in bright spots from the occasional ceiling light, sparsely placed lamps on the tables, or the burning fireplace near Bruce. The freezing man finally spotted two doors, one to the far wall behind, the other next to the rack of tools.

Seeing the doors, Bruce's head turned back toward the fireplace while his legs shifted to placed his feet on the concrete ground. He moved to stand up, but a soft new wheeze to his right distracted him. He glanced to the side and nearly jolted back when a cup was held in front of his face, clasped in three prongs attached to a long metal arm, wrapped with a few wires.

Dark eyes followed the silver arm back, tracing along the path up where it ended and angled down into a trunk connected to a square body. As Bruce started at the strange machine, another wheeze came from it as the arm jerked the cup forward, almost as if it was insisting he take it.

Blinking with surprise at the action, Bruce lifted a hand and easily took the cup from it. Water filled the small glass, and Bruce gratefully drank it, draining the glass empty to ease his parched throat.

The machine wheezed once more while the prongs rotated and clapped together. Turning, the machine rotated before rolling off. The bulky body knocked into a table, sending a box of metal to the floor with a loud crash. Bruce winced at the shrill clanging sound. Metal skittered across the floor, ringing.

"That's Watts." A soft voice came from behind him.

Jolting, Bruce's head nearly whiplashed as he turned to find the origin of the unexpected sound.

In the open door way stood a young woman. Light from the hall behind her lit up her blonde hair, which was pulled back into a messy bun. Black streaks of grease smeared her pretty face, although the streaks seemed faded and blurred as if she had tried to wipe it away. Her clothes though were covered in the grease and littered with stains and small burns. The top of beige worker's jumpsuit was undone and tied around her slender hips to reveal a black tank top covering her torso. Bright grey eyes studied him as dark brown eyes studied her.

After a moment, she walked across the room, the boots on her feet making no sound as she easily weaved through the tables and avoided the clutter. She moved with grace, familiarity, and confidence through the workroom. _Her workroom_ , Bruce realized, noticing how she comfortably entered and blended in with the surroundings.

When she walked around the couch, approaching him, it brought Bruce out of the stupor her unexpected appearance casted him into. Remembering she had spoken, he tried to respond, but too many questions to focus on filled his head and the undecided words caught in his throat. Eventually he managed to grunt out a pathetic _huh?_

""Watts," she repeated and gestured a hand in the direction the machine had rolled towards, eyes following the path it had taken. "He's a robot, but he's not the brightest bulb. Can't seem to do anything without knocking something over. Bolts is much better at maneuvering around, but that may be because I used newer parts, a different arraignment and new actuators to guarantee easier movement, and more efficient program when I built him." Then, the girl woman started to ramble, describing specifically the class and model of some type of lever in a jargon Bruce didn't quite understand. The accent in her voice was dignified and quite unique for he could not determined the exact origin of it.

Grey eyes shifted away from her robot and settled on him. Suddenly the warm lightness in her eyes hardened into steel and her mouth abruptly shut, silencing her rant. Pink dusted her cheeks while steely eyes casted to the ground towards her nervously shifting feet.

Silently she moved towards the computer that displayed his vitals. Her small fingers tapped along the keyboard, bringing up new charts and information.

She remained quiet.

Not once did she try to speak to him again.

The silence was thick between them, only sounds of machines, hearts, and fire filled the room. It weighed on him, filling his still shivering body with questions of _who_ , _what_ , _where_ , and _why_.

Who was this girl?

What was she doing?

Where was he?

Why was he here?

She wouldn't speak, so Bruce did instead. "Where am I?" He tested the waters with a simple question.

Beats of his heart sounded during a moment's hesitation. "M-My workshop." She stuttered out quietly. He waited for a moment, waited for more explanation. But she did not speak again.

He tried another question. "Why am I here?"

"You fell into the water," she softly said, her voice trembling with awkwardness. The slender body that had been at ease around the tools and machines was now tense and stiff around another human being. "You were freezing. He brought you h-here to warm and recover."

"Ducard brought me here?"

He had to confirm that Ducard knew where he was, that he was somewhere in the base the League of Shadows had established within the mountains. In the week or so he had already spent with the League, training and learning, Bruce had never seen a room like this. He had never seen a young woman like _her_ either. For all he knew the League was only made up of ancient men and silent soliders. Not little girls and their machines.

There was another hesitation, the longest yet. "Yes...D-Ducard brought you to m-me," the woman confirmed. There was a question in her voice as she said the name of Bruce's mentor, as if unsure about it.

Bruce paused before his next question. Now the uncertain one, he slowly asked, "And who are you?"

It seemed like she had stopped breathing. Her entire body went still. The little world– _her_ little world–confined in these concrete walls, froze for a moment too, so in tune with her.

There was silence once more from her, it filled his ears and quieted the questions in his mind.

Then to his surprise, she answered.

"I'm Elli."

He nodded, seeing her glance at him through the reflection of her computer screen. He gave her a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Bruce."

He had hoped the sign of friendliness would ease her tension, but her awkwardness still remained. If anything it probably increased. Steel eyes turned back to the computer and its data. Her little fingers danced on the keys. Seconds later, she reported. "Y-your vitals look fine. I'll leave you alone. Rest and warm."

With those words, Elli stepped away from the computer and headed towards the door. Her steps were light and quick, moving like a ghost through the chaos of the room.

Before he could speak, she was gone, the door closed silently behind her.

Bruce Wayne was left alone, surrounded once more by artificial signs of life and a burning fire.

Anger is a powerful emotion.

Anger is a consuming emotion.

 _But_ curiosity is also a powerful emotion.

Curiosity is a compelling emotion.

And he was very curious about the girl with steel eyes.


	2. I: Prologue Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's curiosity leads him deeper in the mountains to the girl with the steel eyes.

**I Prologue - Part II  
Little Talks**

_Tell me a piece of your history that you've never said out loud. Pull the rug beneath my feet and shake me to the ground. Wrap me around your fingers, break this silence open wide, before it seeps into my ears and fills me up from the inside._  
–Bastille

* * *

Curiosity is a powerful emotion.

Curiosity is a compelling emotion.

It sits in your mind, scratches in your muscles, itches in your skin. It stays and irritates and persists until it is fed, soothed, and satisfied. Relief only comes with indulgence.

Bruce was very much aware of his curiosity. With a sudden appearance, it settled deep in his body. With silence, it grew and infected. With a glance of steel, it became apart of him as much as bones, blood, and skin. With distance, it overwhelmed and ached.

Endless question and boundless curiosity seeped into his conscious like the warmth of the heaters and the fire. While the heat cracked away the ice, the curiosity only stirred without answers.

Two days passed torn between hours of drowning sleep or consuming awareness for Bruce. Much to his disappointment, Elli –the mystery mechanic, the girl with steel eyes– did not make another appearance while Bruce stayed within her workroom, relaxing and thawing and questioning. The only evidence of her existence appeared whenever Bruce roused from dreams and into the quiet world. Within the hearth, the fire danced bright and crackled loudly, replacing the dying embers Bruce had stared into as he fell asleep. Another robot, built in lighter metals –Bolts he distantly thought of a name mentioned in a passing ramble– waited beside the couch with a tray holding warm soup and fresh bread.

When Bruce awoke on the third day after he fell into the ice, he saw a wooden ceiling above, felt a small familiar bed, and realized he was in the small room Ducard had given to him when Bruce agreed to go through the training to become a part of the League of Shadows.

With his body warmed, rested, and healed, Bruce was immediately thrust back into the days of rigorous training. His mentor, Ducard was strict, forceful, and calm as ever.

As Bruce became immersed within the routine of lessons, a part of him still remained focused on the mechanic. His curiosity reminded him of her as he wandered through the base during the few moments of his own time not spent with Ducard or in his room, distantly thinking of the workroom and its owner tucked away somewhere. That same part of him tensed his back, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise with an acute awareness of eyes, distant and watching as he sparred with one of the League members.

Whenever Bruce finally looked over his shoulder to search across the room, there was nothing but empty space. Though, sometimes he believed he saw a blur of brightness or a glance of grey before it slipped into shadow.

A few days afterwards, when his curiosity had festered and compelled, Bruce asked Ducard about the girl who took care of him, in the middle of a sparring match between teacher and student. The question had slipped out of his mouth as Bruce directed a blow to Ducard's face.

Easily, the master raised an arm to block the attack, but instead of returning it with a punch, Ducard's entire being tensed and stilled into stone. His eyes –the only truly expressive part of him– gleamed like a blade, the pure coldness of the blank stare causing a shiver to race through Bruce. He was suddenly reminded of cracked ice and cold waters that had once consumed him.

Then in the blink of an eye, suddenly white spotted Bruce's vision. With a rush of motion, air was pushed out of his lungs and pain ached through his back with the force that slammed him into the training mat beneath. Winded and gasping, the pain spreading, Bruce stared up at Ducard as the mentor stood over him.

"The girl is none of your concern," Ducard finally spoke, his tone matching his demeanor of frost and stone. "Focus on your training. How do you expect to battle evil if you are distracted by a woman? Rise and start again." He commanded.

And that was the end of the conversation.

After that unexpected reaction, Bruce did not dare question Ducard or any of the others within in base about the mechanic. He didn't want to risk being slammed into the ground again. Although, the reaction –that quick dismissal– only added to the mystery of Elli.

A question stirred once more.

_Who was she?_

Bruce had begun to realize the answer that would soothe the ache his curiosity hollowed within him could only come from Elli herself.

If he only found her.

If she only spoke to him.

* * *

It was by chance he found her again.

When the world was cast into darkness of night and everything was silent and still, Bruce wandered the halls.

Familiar restless had kept Bruce awake again. Memories of long ago and questions of now kept his mind occupied and denied it rest. When the walls of his small room became too claustrophobic, he ventured into the halls upon habit. Throughout his childhood, whenever nightmares of swarming bats woke him with a fright, Bruce had left his room to seek the comfort of his father down the hall, who would always embrace him with gentle touch and soft words to ease away the fear. When the terrors shifted from creatures of night to monsters of men, he left his room and went to find Alfred, ignoring the empty bedroom he passed. The old butler readily comforted the young master of the house, often with a warm dessert in the kitchen.

Now, years later, Bruce was in a similar situation –walking through corridors but in a place far from home, both in atmosphere and in distance. Like before, his wandering footsteps unconsciously and unexpectedly led him to a person.

Turning sharply around a corner, Bruce ran into them.

The sudden collision and the shock of it sent Bruce stumbling back a few steps. A box crashed to the ground, sending strips of metal and circuit boards to the ground. Wrapped in a napkin, pieces of bread fell also, rolling across the aged wooden floor.

Recovering from the surprise, Bruce looked to see who he'd run into and quickly felt the shock return when grey eyes stared back at him, wide and bright in the streaks of moonlight leaking into the room from a window. For a brief moment, time stilled, suspended in starlight and bewilderment at the sheer chance of the meeting.

Elli, then, blinked and quickly her eyes fell to the ground. Tilting her head to see the mess at her feet, she kneeled on the floor and began to collect the fallen metal and circuits and place them within the box.

Bruce's gaze followed her movements for a second before he kneeled and began to help her. He noticed her body language tensed and how she kept her head down. Her loose hair formed a curtain around her face to hide any and all expressions. While they collected the items, she said nothing.

When each piece of equipment and scrap was back in the box, Bruce retrieved the rolls and bundled the napkin around them. Standing, he held it in his hands and watched the girl lift the box. A quiet noise of exertion slipped through her lips as she heaved the large box in her arms. Underneath its weight, her limbs trembled.

"Here, let me get that," Bruce quickly said when he noticed the weight was too much for her slender body to hold without strain. At the sound of his voice, Elli finally looked at him with surprise. She made a noise of protest when he reached out his hands to grab the box, but he ignored it. He wasn't about to let her struggle, especially if he could easily help her. Handing her the bread, he adjusted the box in his arms, making sure he had a good hold on it. "So where does this need to go?" Bruce asked.

Steel regarded him, cold and guarded. Though by the slight downturn of her lips and the little furrow in her brow, she seemed torn with uncertainty, confusion, and...curiosity? Her lips parted and Elli looked like she was about to speak, but quickly her mouth clamped shut and her eyes darted away.

Quietly, she walked passed him to continued down the hallway from where he came. Bruce's head turned to follow her back and he once again watched her walk away. Like before, she was a ghost drifting through shadow and moonlight, steps silent and quick.

Unlike before, she stopped.

All bright and pale, shining and shaking in another sliver of light, she turned to look back at him. "A-are you coming?" Elli questioned. In the silence of night her words were whispers on the wind, soft and stuttering. Bruce strained to hear them and when they registered, surprise struck him once more. Blinking as if to rid the stupor her action and words caused in his mind, Bruce's feet move on their own, tracing the footsteps leading to her.

Once he was close enough, she turned with a streak of pale hair and continued forward.

Bruce had to follow carefully behind for she moved too easily between shadows, blending and merging in their darkness as she traveled with familiarity through corridors, around corners, and down stairs. The twisting turns and look-a-like hallways made Bruce feel like he was caught in an ancient maze. Only the girl whose home was this labyrinth kept him from losing his way.

All the turns and all the stairs finally led them down through the compound, deep into the mountain, to a dark hallway. The small place seemed hidden away from everything, even the light of the sky.

Entering the corridor, Elli's hand flicked a light switch upon passing without even a glance towards it. Artificial light blinked on to replace the dark and to illuminate the door on the other end. Elli crossed the hallway quickly with Bruce trailing behind.

Pausing at the door, her small hand slipped into a pocket of her jumpsuit to retrieve a bronze key. With a heavy click, the lock slid open. Elli pocketed the key, opened the door, and stepped into her workroom.

It was just as Bruce remembered. Following Elli through a winding path between tables, Bruce took notice of the features and objects that had surrounded him during the few days of his recovery –the organized chaos, the burning hearth, the robots. Watts stood beside its counterpart, Bolts, and upon Bruce's and Elli's entrance, it had turned to look at them, knocking over an empty oil can in the process.

"Where do you want this?" Bruce asked, nodding his head to the box cradled in his arms.

Elli moved around one cluttered table, easing into a chair behind it. Wordlessly, she placed the bread down and cleared a space on the table by pushing aside notes, pens, stray wires, and tools. Understanding her intention, Bruce set the box down gently and once he had removed his hands, Elli immediately went to work. Turning on a lamp to light the small space, her hands then delved into the box and rummaged through the metals and equipment. She retrieved various pieces of machinery, and after collecting everything she needed, the mechanic begun her work.

Like in most things, the girl worked silently. Only the wheeze of machines, the clang of metal, and the snap of fire broke through the deadened silence. With fluid movements of nimble fingers, she effortlessly took apart pieces only put them back together to create something new.

Bruce stood awkward and out of place within the room of machines, but he couldn't make himself leave. Curiosity rooted his feet within the concrete, keeping him in the room hidden from light and with the girl who dwelled in its shadow. Endless questions without answer had plagued him only to grow and fester without relief. Now that the opportunity for a salve was right in front of him, building her machines, he could not walk away.

So, Bruce grabbed a chair and rolled it to him before taking a seat across from Elli. For a brief moment, the girl tensed and paused to glance at him. She met his stare, confusion and surprise bright in her eyes, before her head ducked down. Steel eyes focused on the machine and her hands resumed their movement. Only any ease she had felt now stiffened her limbs and drew her body taunt with tension.

Bruce relaxed within his seat and continued to watch the enigma in front of him as seconds of silence passed. The quiet irritated his curiosity that craved words and information to solve the puzzle of the girl.

Taking the initiative, Bruce asked a simple question to ease into a conversation hopefully. "What are you working on?" He tried to appeal to her work, remembering how freely and unguarded she accidentally spoke about it before. He wanted to see if he could find the girl beneath the steel walls he'd glimpsed at.

Elli didn't respond.

Disappointed but not discouraged, Bruce smoothly proceeded to speak as if she had answered. "Then why are you up so late? Can't sleep? Don't want to sleep? Are you nocturnal?"

Silence.

Pursing his lips, he regarded her quietness, his mind spinning with emerging frustration and expanding inquiry.

A new tactic came to mind when her answers never came. Even though she would not speak, he could. Any silent questions in the air, he could answer. Reveal information about himself. Let her learn about him. Let her grow comfortable with his presences as she was with her machines.

Maybe then, when the tension faded and the walls lost their defense, she would speak.

It was a worth a shot.

"I've never been one for sleep," he mentioned. He smiled slightly, allowing her to see his casual, friendly, and non-threatening demeanor. She needed to learn he wasn't some enemy there to harm her. "Ever since I was a kid," he distantly thought of a nights filled with the terror that rose from a gaping hole with swarming bats and that pierced the dark with two gunshots. Quickly, his mind moved on from the tragedies of his childhood before the grief and anger could infect him. Instead he thought of more recent times. "As I've traveled, it's gotten worse. Time shifts and jet lag can really mess with your internal clock. The worst was when I first flew across the Atlantic. I couldn't sleep properly for days."

As his words became a part of the quiet sounds of the workroom, Bruce's eyes never left Elli. He observed her carefully, taking note of each minor action in search of a reaction. When he first mentioned his travels around the world, Elli had glance at him quickly, her expression filled with curiosity. Quickly, she had adverted her eyes back to her working hands, but Bruce had seen her interest in the world beyond the mountains. Taking advantage of it, he indulged her with stories of the far away places he'd dream of as child and wandered through as an adult. Of the people he'd seen and met. Of the cultures he was introduced to and experienced.

It was a small victory for Bruce when he saw the tightness of her hunched shoulders relax a fraction. Another victory came when Elli stopped her work to watch and listen to him as he spoke of Italy.

The night passed quickly. Bruce shared a few of his stories. Elli shared her attention, and also her bread when his stomach had interrupted with audible growl. Bruce had been unaware of the time that had slipped by until a computerscreen came to life with 5:30 flashing and an alarm blaring. The sudden noise had nearly knocked Bruce from the chair. As he tried to recover from the disgraceful slip, he caught a brief flicker of a smile from Elli out of the corner of his eye.

"How time flies," he commented, with a shrug that would have made him appear sheepish if not for the slight smirk on his lips. Rising to a stand, Bruce said, "Thanks for the bread. Sleepless nights are better with food and company. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my way back before Ducard thinks I've mastered invisibility."

With a few words and smile, Bruce left Elli's workroom and quickly became lost as he tried to follow memories of turns and corridors. Ducard had been the one to find Bruce wandering the lower halls. The mentor had regarded his student in silence for a moment, narrowed eyes biting with coldness and suspicion. The expression had passed quickly as it came and Ducard simply ordered Bruce to follow him. Training had immediately begun with a surprise attack from multiple adversaries when they reached the center of the compound.

While his body was consumed by the lessons of the day, his mind still remained in the conversation of night.

* * *

 

The sleepless nights continued.

Naturally each night, Bruce sought out company to fill them.

It had taken a few days to memorize each turn and staircase between his room and Elli's workroom. Whenever Bruce's mind could not find peace in dreams, he found solace in conversation. At first, only his voice filled the empty hours. For a few nights, only one side of the conversation was heard.

One night, Elli responded.

He spoke of the world and of its people. He mentioned Gotham (Elli had particular fascination with the city) and the brighter memories of his life there–his father's kind attention, his mother's gentle smile, Rachel's childish games, Alfred's loyal service.

She asked questions of him, seeking more information from his life and experiences. She spoke of her machines, talking of them as one would of close friends. When he asked of her projects, she explained in extensive detail of the process she took to create the gadgets of the League. Even though most of her words were long terms of a engineer's jargon he was slowly coming to understand, he smiled in his cluelessness and enjoyed the simple pleasure of her voice, especially when its nervous stutter faded.

Familiarity quickly established itself with the passing nights. The door to Elli's workshop left unlocked. Watts served food for two. A soft voice settled in confidence and comfort. Steel started to lose its sharpness.

One night, Elli spoke first.

"W-why?"

The question had taken him by surprise as Bruce had settled onto the couch. Blinking, his complete attention focused on the girl in the seat next to him. Her steel eyes followed his expression carefully. "What do you mean," Bruce asked, trying to find the meaning behind the word that could refer to anything.

Elli licked her lips and then clarified. "Why are you here? In the League?"

Once more her questions surprised him, especially the tone of confusion in her voice. As if she couldn't understand any reason to be there. "To learn the means to fight injustice," Bruce repeated, the questioning and the words familiar. Not long ago, he stood, out breath and shivering from his climb up the mountain, before Ducard to answer the older man's inquiry, to prove himself suitable for the training with just words and a blue flower. "How to turn fear against those who prey on the fearful."

She watched him, quiet and pensive. Steel reflected a deepening confusion. "Why?" Elli repeated. "What would motive you to leave your home and come here to learn these ancient ways? You could have done anything in Gotham. Why leave it? Why chose this path?"

When Ducard had beaten him to the ground for the first time, talking of death, fears, and dance, he had stood over Bruce as the younger man began to lose consciousness from the exertion of the climb and impromptu fight. Black had started to fill his vision and the fleeting question entered his mind and quickly settled.

_What do you fear?_

Once more a question plunged his mind into memories lurking in the farthest corners of his mind where his nightmares of bats and men dwelled and thrived in the darkest moments of his childhood.

Suddenly, all he saw was the darkness and the grime of the alleyway. Tension suspended in the air. Two gunshots and a scream deafened the noise of the city. Pearls–bright, pure, and broken–scattered. Last words barely heard over the ring in his ears. _Don't be afraid._

Past and present, Bruce felt a tightness in his chest, an agonizing grip on a hallowed heart. Emotions filled the empty place of him that his parents left. Grief strangled him, blocking the air to his lungs and choking his throat with silent sobs. Guilt poisoned him, tormenting his mind and breaking his heart anew. Anger burned him, consuming his being and burying the guilt.

It had taken years for him to learn to cope, since it was impossible to be truly rid of cracks once something has been broken, even if it was put back together with the upmost care and skill. You simply have to learn how to live with them, because you can't ignore or forget forever. It took time, but Bruce had learned how to allow the messy emotions and the fault lines to shape him, to motive him, to lead him from Gotham, across the world and to a League and a girl within the mountains.

"Because you lost someone."

Her soft voice pulled him from the recess of his mind with a shock. Blinking away the memories, dark, distant eyes focused on the burning hearth before him. Bruce turned his gaze back to Elli, surprise continuing to fill him. Her pretty face held an odd expression, something old, gentle, and empathic he'd never seen before.

For once, it was Bruce who was silent and Elli who spoke. "Nothing motives quite like love. Especially love lost." She added with a new quietness, her stare never leaving him. It felt like she could see straight through him and at all the little fractures beneath his skin. When his unspoken question of _how_ entered the conversation, Elli answered. "I recognized the signs. The grief. The guilt. The anger. Even when you don't want to, they always show, like scars on the skin." Unconsciously Bruce's eyes darted to Elli's neck. Even in the low light of the fire he saw the raised white line marring the skin. It had taken him a few days to notice the little scar, questions and scenarios filling his mind with its unknown origin. After he'd seen it, it had been hard not to notice it, the physical flaw only adding to her intrigue.

"Scars you just have to learn to live with," the mechanic continued. "Some fall into grief and stumble into self-destruction. Some lash out with violence as if hurting others will help their pain. Some distract themselves, allowing work to consume their minds and emotions. Some seek a new purpose to dedicate themselves to." A corner of her lips lifted in a kind, barely there sort of smile that gave him the comfort and warmth of a hearth. Then she blinked and the smile fell. For the first time since she began to speak, her eyes left him, casting back towards the ground. "And some forget," Elli quietly stated. "Allow the memories to slip away until there is no pain." Emotions fluttered over her features, so many in so little time Bruce couldn't read them.

After that, Elli once again fell silent. Moments of fire and breath passed and Bruce found his voice again. Clearing his voice around the block in his throat, Bruce managed to say, "My parents." His voice caught Elli's attention and her eyes quickly focused back on him. "We were walking home from the theater, and there was a man–Joe Chill. He try to mug us with a gun. He shot them them both in front of me."

Taking a breath, Bruce admitted. "I felt guilt for the longest time. It was my fault, I made them leave the theater. I had gotten scared by the costumes ...eventually anger overcame my guilt. Chill's sentence was suspended so he could testify against a crime lord. I planed to kill him, to get vengeance, but Falcone had Chill killed before I could do it. After that I was lost. I left Gotham. I left everything. I wanted to learn more about criminals and the nature of the underworld so I could combat it. I may not be able to avenge my parents, but I can protect what they stood for." He then added, "That's why I'm here."

Elli nodded in a gesture of understanding as she carefully watched him. Silence filled their conversation. Bruce thought over her reactions –the deep understanding she had used to see the cracks of him most would not. She had lost someone, he had easily concluded from the empathy in her descriptions.

"Who did you lose," he asked when he worked up the courage, his tone was gentle and kind. "You don't have to tell me, I just wish to know more about you," Bruce quickly added, making it clear she had a choice in the matter.

The girl paused for a moment. "M-my mother," she admitted shakily and hesitantly. "I was just a child. Eight? maybe...and after she...passed, my father left me here and went back to his work with the League. Since then, I've stayed here. Just me and my machines," Elli trailed off, looking at her hands wringing together in her lap –a nervous habit of hers.

"And now me," Bruce added. With a sudden surge of impulse and confidence, he reached over and grabbed her hand gently. All of her movement stilled instantly and then tensed as he cradled her hand. The skin of her fingers and palm were rough with callouses from her work, but the back of her hand was smooth and soft as his thumb stroked it. Elli's surprised look shifted from their hands to his face. He smiled at her with the gentleness of a friend.

Slowly, the tension in her shoulders faded and a smile tugged at her lips.

 

Steel turned brittle and gave way to a gentle silver.

* * *

After he'd barred his cracks and she'd softened her steel, their friendship only grew. A new level of closeness and comfort had formed with the connection of loss, and Bruce enjoyed the new openness of Elli. She began to share a little more personal information about her mother when she was comfortable. He quickly noticed how she avoided any mention of her father, and while his curiosity to why grew, he never asked, he never pushed her more information in fear of ruining their progress.

Weeks passed, days spent in training with Ducard, nights spent in conversation with Elli. The routine of life in the compound settled in as Bruce became accustomed to it.

One night, everything changed.

In retrospect, Bruce should have noticed the warning signs. An unease saturated the atmosphere of the base, the sort of tension that fills the air before a storm breaks. Ducard spoke and moved with an eerie coldness. Each of his attacks and blows struck Bruce with such force, the student had thought for a moment he'd angered Ducard somehow. But through the training, his expression of immovable stone and eyes of grey glaciers never faltered.

As the darkness consumed the day, Bruce walked with bruised skin and aching limbs through familiar shadows and corridors to a door tucked deep in the mountain. When he stepped passed the unlocked door, his eyes immediately sought out a head of blonde hair. Spotting Elli on the coach, he quickly moved across the room, dodging tables with ease.

When he neared her, his eyes were drawn to Bolts standing beside the couch with a tray holding an open first aid kit. It was then Bruce noticed Elli and how the mechanic was finishing off a bandaged wrapped tightly around her right hand. The sight of was nothing new –over the weeks both of them had sustained injuries from his training and her work. More than once, Elli had played doctor to him.

Taking a seat beside her, he quipped, "Daydreaming while crossing wires again?" Her body went rigid and her head remained down. As her silence continued, the smile slowly slipped from his face.

Finally warning signs blared and flashed red in his mind.

Something was wrong. "Elli," he whispered her name, using a gentleness he hadn't since the night she first started the conversation. "What's wrong?"

The tension never left her, it seemed to seep from her body and infect the air around her. Quietly, she finished bandaging her hand and packed up the gauze and supplies.

Not once did she speak.

He tried to question her again, this time with a hint forcefulness. "What's wrong?"

She did not respond. She did not even look at him, keeping her head down and hiding behind a curtain of blonde.

After weeks of words, the silence pained him.

"Please say something," Bruce nearly begged. Desperation and worry aged his voice.

There was a moment of hesitation. "I-it's nothing," Elli finally said, the stutter and unease of her voice surprising him. "Just...a mistake. I-I'm fine."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Another hesitation. Slowly, she raised her head and turned to look at him.

After weeks of warm silver, the sight of shielded steel felt like a knife to his chest.

Something was wrong, he knew. 

"Elli. What's going on?" He tried to reach for her hand but she flinched away. Quickly, he sat back, providing the distance. "Elli...please."

Her head turned away, staring blankly at the fire. Shadows and light danced across her pale face as she paused. The quiet became suffocating as he was forced to wait and anticipate what she could possibly say. Already his mind was torturing him with a million worst case scenarios, most of them involving the numerous ways she could be dying.

He had thought of every possibility except for the truth.

"I'm leaving."

Pure surprise stunned him like one of Ducard's blows. Immediately his mind exploded with different reactions and inquires to the sudden news. Undecided words melded and fought. Eventually Bruce managed to say a simple what that exclaimed his confusion and shock.

"My father decided it," she explained efficiently and quietly. Her father's decree might has well be carved in stone in the finality of the statement. "I'm leaving at dawn."

No words came to Bruce. He simply sat and stared, completely stunned a stupor. She was the only one could surprise him like this...The thought of the workshop empty, of nights with out her soft voice, of the hearth dying carved an ache in Bruce. Over time, he'd grown found of the mechanic and of their nightly talks. She had always been an intriguing distraction away from the training and lessons. Imagining his new life without that saddened him.

"I'm going to miss you," he finally admitted, feeling a need to say something. He couldn't let their last night be consumed with silence. "But I wish you luck." Giving her a friendly smile when her head turned, Bruce added, "Maybe after I finish my training, we could meet again. Maybe in Gotham?"

There was a gleam of silver and flicker of a smile.

"I would like that."

"It's a date."

Bruce never expected the next time he would see those steel eyes would be through the shadows of the longest night, when screams filled the air and fear reigned the darkness.


	3. I: Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elli arrives in Gotham

**I**  
**Chapter One**  
**Stranger in a Strange Land**

  
_An unfamiliar city is a fine thing. That's the time and place you can suppose that all the people you meet are nice. It's dream time._  
–Louis-Ferdinand Celine

* * *

When she observed Gotham the first time, Elli was reminded of machines.

No longer in the safety and comfort of her sanctum carved beneath the mountain a world away, she felt out of place in this new environment her father had cast her into. She searched for something familiar to grasp onto in order soothe the tremble in her bones caused by the disruption of her entire universe. In her limited experience, she relied on the matter that had become her greatest expertise and source of companionship over the years of isolation – machines.

Like her inventions, Gotham was constructed in metal and glass, with sleek structures towering over concrete paths. Elli easily recognized the various metals used throughout the city from their appearance and purpose in each feature. More than once she had held and worked with the same steel to craft her own mechanisms. Within this colossal contrivance, the people acted as the gears and cogs, the individual parts that create the hum and reeling of the city.

The comparison provided a moment of solace. For a second, her mind calmed and she could breathe around the weight in her chest. Maybe, she thought, this is not the end of my world.

But, as her observations continued, the fragile peace fractured when she was persistently faced with the frightening contrast of her workroom and this place.

The lines of the buildings stretched towards the open sky that was bright and endless above. The sun ricocheted off the hard angles, glaring beams of light onto the criss-crossing streets beneath. Too used to shadow, the light would have blinded her eyes if not for the tinted window that distorted everything in a sheen of shade.

Gotham existed in a constant state of motion and noise. The street was filled with the bustle of its inhabitants moving together in a steady flow of traffic, synchronized and yet absorbed in their separate lives.There was a constant chorus, a blended symphony of humming engines, honking horns, droning conversations in growing volumes that was just loud enough to be bearable.

This urban setting was so foreign to the girl whose life had always been anchored in the security of quiet, stillness, and isolation. But she could not deny the curiosity that pulsed beneath her ribs, a rhythm separate from the quiver of her nerves. Her mind spun with the flood of her own observations and the echoes of others' stories of Gotham.

The city was the place of Elli's birth, but it had never become the home it was to her mother. By the time she was a few weeks old, her mother had taken her and left the place she would later recall fondly to Elli in bedtime stories. While her mother had loved Gotham, her father despised it. His cold voice described an immoral place stained with corruption and all other things terrible and wrong in the world, such a stark contradiction to the metropolis of imperfection, opportunity, and power her mother thrived in.

In between these two warring opinions was another view from the man who'd become a new light in an otherwise shadowed existence, a presence that had invaded her defenses and chosen to stay. Bruce Wayne had become her first true friend, built in muscles instead of metal and capable of proper response when she spoke. To him, Gotham held all the warmth of his home and the coldness of his tragedy. In the same place existed the beginnings of his life and the taint of his loss in a bittersweet paradox.

Completely captured in her fascination, Elli couldn't help but to begin to muse how this city would impact her.

"Elli."

The stern, yet respectful, call of her name quickly brought out Elli's attention from her own introspection. Blinking once as she was suddenly cast back into awareness, she turned her head away from the window and met the steady gaze of the other occupant in the backseat of the towncar.

Malhar Naik was the very personification of stoic and logic. He'd served the League faithfully as a fierce warrior for years; though, when time proved to be an opponent even the Demon's Hand could not defeat, Naik found a new way to serve. Where his strength began to fade, his intelligence only grew. Now as one of the closest advisors to Ra's al Ghul, Naik traded armor for a dark, imposing suit. He was a man whose experience was displayed by the obvious years etched into his tanned skin. In his collected exterior, Elli could perceive the lessons learned from the years drawn on his angled face and the wisdom gained through those exploits reflected in deep blue eyes.

Silver eyes meet the intent, all-seeing stare, knowing he could find all the little thoughts and insecurities unspoken in her silence, but screaming in her features. Naik had been a constant figure in her life as her godfather. He'd witnessed her growth in stages, and that lent him a more in-depth understanding of her personality and all her little tells – the tense posture of her shoulders, the subtle quake in her hands, the anxious bite of her lip, the slight fracture in steely eyes.

Naik observed each quirk with a patient face and calm eyes."We will be arriving soon," he reported.

She nodded at his words and then diverted her eyes from his invasive gaze to the agitated movement of her hands. For a moment, her eyes followed the path of her fingertips along the rough edges of the bandage wrapped around the palm of her right hand. Once more her mind was cast back into its own depths, lurking not in the current moment but within the not so distant past.

The sudden summons had been surprising to Elli when she met her father in the main chamber of the compound. As she stood before him, she could tell that he was attempting to adopt the tenderness of a nurturing character by the subtle gentleness of his eyes. Despite the effort to act the caring father, the role of solider was inscribed too deeply into his soul, revealed to her when he commanded her to travel to Gotham. It was a clear, indisputable order even though he claimed this was the best for her. She could not argue or protest, knowing too well that beneath the fatherly front, his being was too much like his sword–made from steel, sharp and lethal. It was evident in the piercing quality of his stare and the refined edge of his posture even as he reached for her hand, the nature of his touch benevolent till she flinched. Then she felt his determined will in the tightness of his grip.

There was a struggle for Elli to bring herself back into the reality from the intrusive corners of her mind. Her gaze shifted from her hands and began to drift from the details in the leather of the seats to the rush of scenery beyond the window. The girl was unable to keep her eyes or her mind focused without any projects to dedicate her being to. Yet another alien aspect of this situation that kept her on edge.

"I know it does not feel like it, but this is for the best," Naik said, a sympathetic tone in his deep voice. " Not only are you fulfilling your duty to the League, you are honoring your mother's wishes. She always wanted you to experience Gotham."

Elli gave him a small smile, appreciating the effort to sooth her unease. She watched, curious, as he retrieved a file from his briefcase and handed it to her. Taking it, she quickly opened the folder and studied the contents.

"This is everything you will need for your time here in Gotham. Identification, credit cards, etc. If there is anything else you require, your godmother will provide," he explained.

"Th-thank you," Elli responded softly. There was a pause, the music of the city filling the silence before she asked, "What c-can you tell me a-about her?"

Naik pondered her question, another moment of quiet between them against the backdrop of noise. "Rosalie Shade is a…woman of many ambitions," he answered slowly. Seeing Elli's intrigued attention, the man continued to describe the godmother Elli could barely remember. Any attempts to recall the woman resulted in nothing besides a hazy image of a grin, a brief flash of verdant, and a growing pain in her head."She has the mind of a business tycoon and the heart of an artist. She likes to keep herself occupied with her thriving company and her ever-growing status. Recently, Ms. Shade has become involved within the art program at the local University."

Elli did not have the chance to fall into contemplation, for as soon as Naik's words faded into the din, the movement of the car began to slow into a stop. Shortly after, the door was opened, allowing a glaring stream of light to illuminated the small, darkened space. Although blinded by the sudden change of lighting, Elli slid across the seat and hesitantly stepped out of the vehicle. She took a breath and stood transfixed by the looming skyscraper above and the downtown scene around, feeling the tightening in her chest and the rush in her nerves, not quite sure if the effect was from anxiety or exhilaration. Perhaps a combination of the two.

Behind her, Naik exited the towncar and gave the driver orders to retrieve the luggage. He placed a hand on Elli's shoulder, startling the girl from her wide-eyed reverie. Now with her attention, the man stepped around her to enter the lobby beneath the awning that displayed the building's name. Eden Heights. The interior was as dazzling as the exterior, an exemplar of finery and elegance with its marble countenance and crystal chandeliers. As Elli drank in the details, she made sure to closely follow behind her godfather's purposeful stride to the elevator across the grand entrance.

The elevator soared upwards towards the penthouse. The monotone melody of the soft music created a brief dazed state of waiting until the interruption of a ringing chime and the sliding doors. The first floor of the luxury apartment was an open space, each room following into the other without the resistance of walls. The modern style consisted of sleek lines and sophisticate decor in a grayscale theme with vibrant accents. Windows of varying sizes served dual purposes – to pour a flood of etherial light throughout the area and to offer a grand exhibit of Gotham as living art.

Naik first stepped out of the elevator. He lead Elli through the central foyer to the living room. At the large window a figure stood, looking down at the world beneath. "Ms. Shade," he called out respectively to announce their arrival.When the woman turned, Elli was met with the same warm smile she vaguely remembered as a child.

Rosalie Shade was a vision of beauty and boldness, striking in the softness of her features. Her eyes gleamed verdant against the paleness of her skin and the crimson of her hair. The unique curve of her mouth created the illusion of an always there smile and that grin only grew as her dark eyes settled onto Elli. Rosalie glided forward towards her guests like a modern queen, regal and confident in her dress suit.

"Hello," she greeted, her accent silvery and smooth. "It is wonderful to see you again Elli, after all these years."

Elli stared at her godmother for a moment, taken aback into silence at the attention Rosalie focused solely onto her. The woman had not even glanced towards Naik, a man of true esteem whose simple presence demanded regard. Words stumbled through the stunned spell as Elli's mind finally began to process once more. "H-hi," she managed to say, her voice betraying her anxiety with the same tremble in her skin.

Fondness flickered in her eyes, a brightness within dark eyes that quickly faded when Rosalie turned to address Naik. "Has everything been arraigned on your part?" she questioned, a slight change in her tone as she shifted to business matters instead of personal affairs. Beneath the dulcet notes, there was a resolute and poised edge.

The man nodded. "It has. And on your end?" he replied.

"Of course," Rosalie answered. Her lips titled into a smirk. "I am nothing if not reliable. He should be arriving shortly. Please have a seat." She gestured to the arrangement of chairs and couches in the room. "Shall I summon my butler to fetch refreshments while we wait?"

As Elli sat on the edge of the closest couch and Naik took one of the chairs, they declined her offer for sustenance. Rosalie gracefully reclined in an armchair facing Naik. The minutes passed with generic discussions of their travel and her business, time Elli spent to stare through the large window at the new angle of Gotham.

Soon a ring pierced through the idle talk. With a welcoming smile, Rosalie rose to her feet and quickly moved through the open space to greet the new arrival. Naik stood from his seat, and Elli followed his movement, turning slightly to observe the scene with a steely gaze.

The visitor was a large man of imposing stature, broad features, and dark skin. The solemn expression and powerful stance reminded her of the silent soldiers of the League, despite the more civilian appearance of his attire. Though there was something kind in his eyes, a gentleness within unlit eyes she recognized despite his intimidating physique. After all, Bruce had the same qualities.

Rosalie called out a greeting in a foreign language (which Elli thought to be French) in a joyful tone as she embraced the man. The man responded, though because of his low voice Elli could not here the specific words. The familiarity between them revealed a past history of friendship, only further confirmed when Rosalie kissed both his cheeks and he repeated the action.

Her godmother stepped away from the guest and turned to face the other occupants of the room. "Elli, I would like you to meet my good friend, Marcus Barasa," Rosalie introduced with a motion of her hand to present the man. "He will be your…" She paused in brief thought, as if unsure how to explain the man's role "...chauffeur. He will drive you anywhere you wish during your time here and will be remain at your side to be available for any case of emergency." She explained to the girl before addressing Naik. "I can assure you he meets all of the standards set, but you may interview him yourself if you wish."

"Yes, I would like to confirm Mr. Barasa is suitable for this job," Naik replied, intently studying the man before him. It was then Elli realized the true part of Mr. Barasa; he was to be her shadow, an always watchful and present guard to keep her protected. Although her father sent her away from their shielded realm, he still saw to keep her within his influence.

Rosalie nodded in understanding. "Alright then. You may use the living room to conduct your meeting. We'll leave you to it." She approached Elli, revealing to the girl that we did include herself. "Come Elli, let me show you your new home." The woman said kindly, her smile turning soft once more. She linked their arms and escorted Elli towards the stairs that wrapped around the elevator to the second floor of the penthouse.

"I have a feeling you will enjoy it here," Rosalie commented before she began the tour.

* * *

Within a week, Elli found herself settled in the penthouse, the nerves beneath shaking skin finally resolving as the days passed and a familiarity established. It took time for her to find a place among the already existing routine, a quiet space between Rosalie's bustling lifestyle, the maid's extensive cleaning, and the butler's constant consideration.

Although Rosalie provided many opportunities for Elli to join her in some event in Gotham, the girl was perfectly content to stay within the walls of the penthouse. She had found her own work, spending countless hours taking apart and improving various appliances such as the tv and elevator. In between projects, she developed new computer algorithms used to hack into the central air system, the city's power grid, and the cctv cameras, mostly to see if she could. She found that the firewall for the police department's network wasn't that impressive. In her boredom, she had searched for a challenge and was disappointed when it took less than an hour to break through.

It was that dull, monotonous boredom that led to Elli's current location: sitting in the kitchen floor, surrounded by tools and various metallic parts she used to take apart the toaster.

Mr. Barasa remained near by, as he had for the past week. He read quietly and drank tea at the kitchen bar. Since his hire, the protector had not spoken to Elli, never questioning her decision to remain indoors. Since she had not required any of his driving or defensive services, he found his own activities to pass the time, usually finding a place near to her to sit with books of various topics and languages After having grown use to Bruce's presence within her lab, Mr. Barasa actually provided favorable company.

"Is there anything you require?" Rosalie's butler, Crowley, politely inquired from where he stood. As usual, he was prepared to answer any request, although Elli had never called on him. She was accustomed to a certain level of independence when it came to daily needs and having an attendant was still an oddity. Though to him, she seemed the strange one. Elli could perceive the confused amusement in his carefully controlled facade as he looked down at her.

Her reply was a simple shake of her head as she reached for a screwdriver to detach the cover. She set it aside and retrieved the tool to strip wires now that she had access to the wiring controls. Earlier that morning as he prepared the breakfast he insisted on making for Elli, Crowley had damned the toaster twice over since it scorched the bread. Because of that incident, Elli took on a new project to improve the 'bloody burning toaster' by altering the control of the heat's rate of distribution to prevent burning and to provide a perfect toasting.

In silence, she continued her task, only distracted from it at the sound of soft footsteps. Glancing up, Elli watched the maid, Sophia, enter the kitchen. The aging woman stopped in her movements when her eyes settled on the scene before her. Goodnatured exasperation filtered through her features at the prospect of cleaning Elli's organized mess. Elli had obsersved the dedication and pride Sophia put into the cleanliness of the penthouse and knew the woman honestly enjoyed the chance to keep the surfaces spotless despite any irritation expressed. 

"Miss Swan, Rosalie has requested to see you," Sophia reported. "I see you are quite…occupied with the toaster, but I would not keep her waiting." She stated, sounding like a grandmother with her tone that was part instruction and part kindness.

Elli replied, remembering the many times Sophia urged for a vocal response instead of Elli's usual silent gestures, "Al-alright." Though the quake in her body had calmed, the brittle stutter in her voice had not yet faded. It would take only a little more time for the growing familiarity with this atmosphere and these people to resolve it as well.

Insisting that Elli not waste time by retrieving her things, Sophia began to pick up the tools and parts scattered about while Mr. Barasa walked with Elli to the elevator. Once inside he removed a key from his pocket and turned it in a lock on the panel, the only way to reach the separate third floor of the penthouse. It was a short, almost weightless ride. It took a few seconds spent listening to the tasteful jazz music favored by Rosalie (the first upgrade Elli had made when she gained access to the system.)

When the doors opened, Mr. Barasa gestured an open hand for Elli to enter the private level. Elli made her away down the small hallway, glancing briefly over her shoulder at Mr. Barasa only to see him disappear behind closing doors. She continued till the corridor ended to parallel archways. The right led to a grand bedroom suite, the left to a freely formed art studio. Seeing the light inside the workspace, Elli stepped to the left.

The nature of the artist's domain could only be described as chaos. Pure, liberated, beautiful chaos. Natural and artificial brightness from the moon and the city leaked through the curtains to cast arbitrary spotlights. All forms of art were displayed randomly though the room, an abstract piece of vibrant purple and black splashes stood next to a still life of roses in a style remnant of the Renaissance. She passed by an interior composition, a luxury lounge stylized in deep reds and golds. Intricate cityscapes permeated the disarray, and after studying one for a moment, Elli realized they all exhibited a different view of Gotham.

She weaved her way through the true museum of art, trekking towards the intense collection of light in the far corner of the room. There she found Rosalie absorbed into a new work. On a stool, the woman leaned towards the canvas, almost as if she was a part of the art. She appeared relaxed in the loose smock and unpinned hair, though still somehow poised as she dabbed her brush in the paint on the color streaked palette braced by her arm.

Elli's eyes followed the moment of the brush, a delicate sweep coloring the blush of a cheek on the portrait. As she studied the canvas and the visage painted upon in, a wave of nostalgia crashed in her chest and swept away her breath. The fine features, the fair hair, the vivid eyes were an almost mirror image of herself, the only difference found in the maturity of the countenance and the color of the orbs.

"You favor your mother," Rosalie finally spoke. The woman turned from the easel, and though the direction of her gaze had change from portrait to person, dark eyes still held endearment and reminiscence. "Victoria was not only my business partner, but my dearest friend. We met here, in Gotham, a lifetime ago." There was a pause in her words, a quiet moment as Rosalie was consumed by the memories of long ago. An odd smile tilted her mouth when she finally found her voice again. "I was young and…simple then. She was alluring and mysterious. She helped me become the woman I am today by showing me the truth of this city." The strangeness of her grin softened with the change of her tone, becoming suddenly serious. "I would like to be able to do the same for you."

Rosalie paused, allowing a moment for Elli to respond. The girl remained quite; the rapid spin of her mind over the statement prevented any external reaction. Beneath the silence, there was a mess of noise and emotion ringing in her head and beating in her heart. The attention focused on Elli since her arrival, the genuine interest and concern, was unfamiliar. Rosalie had displayed subtle care and quite encouragement, offering opportunities and never coercing. Even now, the woman was clearly respecting the girl's boundaries. The consideration created an attachment that bloomed between the spaces in her ribs where grief lingered.

Incapable of speech, Elli nodded slightly as her response. The positive answer caused a subtle change of expression in Rosalie, a shift in her eyes and an incline in her smile that displayed more then just pride, but satisfaction and delight as well. "Well then…" the woman began to speak once more. "First of all, you really need to experience the city outside of these walls. It's just a matter of where you'd like to go and what you'd like to do."

The girl concentrated on the words and expressions of her godmother, the occasional inclination of her head showing Elli's understanding and agreement. With Elli's acknowledgement, Rosalie continued with suggestions of where Elli could explore the city. "There's always a place for you at the company. After all, S.S Industries stands for Swan and Shade."

Elli tensed at the idea, uncomfortable with the daunting thought of all the people she would have to interact with and her limited knowledge of the nature of business. Shaking her head, she said softly and respectfully, the stutter of syllables revealing her anxiety. "U-uhh. I d-don't think that would be best. You've-ve run the, uh, business w-well on your own. I..I wouldn't want to r-ruin that with my…ignorance." The unease first apparent in her shaking voice began to tremble in her limbs as she worried about the response. She carefully watched Rosalie's reaction with eyes somewhere between steel and silver, guarded yet vulnerable.

Despite the fear of offending her, Rosalie's expression only became tender; the softness of her smile and stare was understanding and soothing. The sentiment brought a measure of calmness to Elli's agitated state and the girl was able to quell her fretting. "Very well. You know what's best for you," she said with a light tone before she quieted and grew thoughtful. A moment passed of her silent contemplation and careful study. "You…like machines. Since your arrival, you've fixed each broken thing and improved everything else. The jazz music in the lift is appreciated. The other music nearly drove me mad. " She commented with a smirk. "Your work is impressive."

"T-Thank you," Elli replied softly. Her cheeks felt hot with a blush at the praise and Rosalie seemed to be amused with her modesty. Shifting on her feet and feeling a new kind nerves from bashfulness, she quietly explained, "Machines have…have been m-my only…companions for years. They are…are familiar while this place is not."

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully. There was another second of consideration before she said, "Gotham State has an impressive robotics lab."

For the first time, Elli displayed interest at a suggestion with a tilt of her head and a gleam in her eyes. At the sight, her godmother smiled encouragingly. "I am a well-involved patron of the university. Often I speak in business classes and teach art lessons. With my influence, I could easily get you access to the lab. You can be surrounded by the machines you love. Perhaps meet some people who share your age and interest. Find someone you like and ask them out for coffee."

There was a hesitation in Elli's intrigue at the mention of others among the machines, but she nodded in compliance, trusting Rosalie's judgment. Though Rosalie's smile broadened and her tender demeanor reassured any wavering resolve Elli displayed. "I will make the arrangements soon," she said. "You'll have access within the week."

* * *

A woman of her word, Rosalie informed Elli of her new access to the GSU robotics lab within the next two days. With Rosalie's encouragement ringing in her ears and Mr. Barasa's presence at her side, Elli braved the strange world beyond her boundaries and left the penthouse for the first time since her arrival.

The Gotham State robotics lab was admirable, Elli admitted to Rosalie after her first day there. It was located in its own building on campus between the engineering and science departments. On the main floor, a large open space was in the center, with tables for groups to work and discuss. Along the edges of the room were smaller individual work areas separated like cubicles. A section in the back was stocked with various tools and parts needed for this line of work, and Elli found the advanced array offered commendable (though it held nothing to her own tool rack). White walls and floors were stained with oil and littered with circuitry, although the efficient design of the room was meant to keep each piece organized, the chaos of thought forced against the margins.

Upon her entrance, Elli surveyed the room, glanced over the gathered groups in the center, and chose the farthest nook in the back near the appliances as her place of work.

Her sudden presence within the lab two weeks after the beginning of the semester drew many curious stares from the students. Discussions of robotic systems were halted at her appearance and quickly replaced with rumors of the identity of this new girl as she worked quietly and alone except for the intimidating man in her shadow, the whispers drifting between the electric shrill of tools and clang of metal. For several days, the students were content with the imaginations of their own minds, the stories growing in absurdity and complexity. She had overheard arguments on whether or not she was a foreign exchange student, a teacher's child, or a mob engineer. Finally on the fifth day, the stories were not enough and some began to search for the truth.

Too focused in her careful work with a small piece of circuitry critical to her new robot in progress, she was unaware of his approach until he was standing at the other side of the table.

"Hey there."

The sudden greeting shocked her out of her concentration, resulting in a nearly violent jerk of her hands and defensive tension of her shoulders. She exclaimed a soft curse in the ancient dialect used within the League when she saw the flaw in the circuit caused by her sudden movement. It was only then she glanced up to find someone across from her, though her view of them was distorted in a blurred image of colors by the magnifying googles perched on her nose.

With gentle hands, Elli placed the delicate circuit down, mindful to prevent any more mistakes. Only when the piece was set and checked over, she lifted the googles to rest on her head and to get a clear look at the one who interrupted her work. The student had standard features –average looks, brown eyes, dirty blonde hair– and disheveled clothing. He seemed to be curious and nervous as her steely eyes studied him. Though he attempted to hide his anxiety behind an easy grin that looked painful rather than friendly. His continuous efforts to be cordial and casual only enhanced the awkwardness in the atmosphere. There was no real charm or amity in his persona, especially compared to the memory of Bruce's charming smile.

When her thoughts once again strayed to her first friend, something began to ache in her chest. It felt like homesickness, an intense kind of longing that bled in the hollow places beneath her ribcage. A pining for the warmth of her fire, for the perfect personalization of her workshop, for the companionship of Bruce. To relieve this new kind of pain, Elli had already reconstructed Watts and Bolts. She had began a new one formed from dark steel and had decided to name it Wayne.

"I'm Josh. And you are?" he asked. At the sound of his voice, she blinked a few times to focus herself on the current situation instead of her introspection."Are you a foreign exchange student?" In his skittish and inquisitive state, Josh began to ramble off questions, never giving her a chance to properly respond. "A teacher's kid? A teacher's mistress? What are you working on? I can see that circuitry you're working on. What's it for? Some kind of other robot? A bomb? Do you work for the mob? Is that why you sit away from everyone else and have the Mr. T wannabe following you around?" Suddenly, he stopped talking, looked to Elli with wide expectant eyes, and waited for answers.

She stuttered over incoherent words, "U-uh…um." As a nervous habit, her hands wrung together. Her mind tried to rapidly remember each rapid-fire question and how she could reply as Josh's focused attention on her became uncomfortable. Though her struggle, the atmosphere grew tense and it began to overcome her, stealing the breath from her lungs and creating quakes in her limbs.

Mr. Barasa saved her from a panic attack.

Elli noticed his presence even before he spoke and the steadiness of Mr. Barasa brought some comfort to her anxious condition. "Miss Swan," his deep voice broke through the thick silence like a rolling thunder. Josh's gaze finally left Elli, only to settle on the imposing guard at her side and then widen comically. "We need to leave now for your meeting."

Seeing the escape route provided, Elli nodded in agreement and started to collect her things. Mr. Barasa remained unmoving, continuing to stare at Josh until the boy flinched and muttered a hasty 'bye' before he made his retreat back to his waiting group of friends. As soon as he rejoined them, they began to talk with the occasional, 'secretive' glance in her direction.

The whispers followed her as she crossed the room. Mr. Barasa's measured stride and defensive placement between her and the students kept her from bolting out the door. When they left building and walked through the campus, Elli could finally breathe again now that she was no longer under scrutiny. A quick rush of gratitude for her protector flowed through her like the air in her lungs.

"T-thank you," she mumbled quietly to Mr. Barasa as he held open the car door for her. He did not reply so she glanced at him to see if he had heard her. Then, his kind, steady gaze met her fragile, silver stare and his head inclined slightly. Elli gave him a shy smile and ducked into the car.

* * *

That night, Sophia interrupted Elli's concentration with another summons from Rosalie. With a small confirmation, Elli set an algorithm to decrypt Gotham's water main electronic system and walked with Mr. Barasa to the elevator.

As she retraced her steps to the studio, Elli felt the peculiar sensation of deja vu. She found Rosalie at the same canvas as before, the near completion of the painting the only proof of time's passage. Victoria's visage was the clear focus of the work, the vibrance of her features complimented by the grey generic background. The realism of each aspect, from the bold gaze to the soft smile, seemed to give life to the ghost in the daughter's mind. Memories flittered through her mind in bursts of noise –in melodic laughter, in quiet lullabies– and in streaks of color – in champagne eyes, in bloody lips.

Rosalie added another small detail to a strand of blonde hair before she placed her brush and palette on the nearby table. Turning in her stool, the woman directly addressed the reason she had called her goddaughter to her again. "Marcus told me what happened today."

Elli's stare darted from the portrait to its artist. Rosalie displayed sympathy toward her goddaughter with a gentle demeanor. "If you are uncomfortable at the University, you do not have to go back. I should not have pressed for you to leave," she said apologetically.

"I…I actually liked the campus," Elli admitted quickly. "It was…it was nice to be in the sun…and in an actual workspace again."

"But," Rosalie added.

"But it…is odd. Being around so….so many people, trying t-to speak with people." She finished, the panicked anxiety from the failed attempt of a conversation with Josh haunting her. Beginning to feel the stress of her nerves again, her hands wrung together and her feet shifted. "I-I don't how to," the girl mumbled to herself.

Isolation had become a norm throughout her life, spending days alone was as common as the sun rising in the morning. Her father and Naik made the occasional appearance throughout her lone existence, and as the only family she knew, there was little issue in their communication. The only other interaction she had was the silent exchanges with the soldiers and the nightly conversations with Bruce. In Nanda Parbat, any interrelation already had a basis, an instant level of understanding and respect from their common factor –the League.

Elli quietly explained, "I…I don't understand this…this city and its people." When the quake of her body turned violent, Rosalie's hands steadied her, a brush of fingertips against her cheek and to her wringing hands. The unexpected affection stilled her movement and then relaxed her nerves. "It is….so strange…and I'm a…a stranger here."

Silence accompanied her faint words. Despite the late hour of the night, Gotham was alive with shining lights and echoing sounds. It was the words of the city that filled the conversation. Elli turned and approached one of the tall windows, observe the world living beneath and thinking about all she could not grasp about this being.

Rosalie came to stand with her at the window. She followed the silver stare and watched, her dark eyes moving between the girl and the city for a moment. "You are not coping well," the woman finally stated. "Socially, at least. It pains me that I do not know how to help you….though I may know someone who can."

"At the University is a brilliant psychology professor who regularly treats students for a number of issues," she explained. "I could arraign a meeting for you, to see if he can help you where I cannot. The choice is yours, of course."

Elli hesitated as she was offered yet another choice from her godmother. After a moment, she faced Rosalie and replied, "Alright. I'll meet him." There was no harm in trying to find a way to learn about the nature Gotham and its inhabitants, and perhaps, this professor could provide answers.

A large grin tilted Rosalie's mouth and her fingers touched Elli's cheek again in a show of pride and affection. "Very well. You will meet with Doctor Crane in a few days."


End file.
